


A little's enough

by CaraMia1887



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Protectiveness, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 23:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3788767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaraMia1887/pseuds/CaraMia1887
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything has been said before, yet it hurts so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A little's enough

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my very first attempt to share something I've come up with. Please be gentle and kind with me, or I will hide in my cave, crying all the time (so, no bad conscience intended :))  
> I'm all new to this fandom, and English is not my native language, please keep that in mind when you throw my incredible stupid mistakes back at me :) 
> 
> I hope you like this small fic nevertheless. It came out completely different than I planned it to be. Please let me know what you think of it (and if I was better hiding in that cave for ever).
> 
> I'm new on tumblr (same nick) and sooo alone.. so if you want to talk to me about Götzeus or Neukreutz or whatever comes to your mind, add me please :) I am up to small talk or world changing encounters :D

You find him in the small courtyard that’s surrounded by the hotel’s walls. He’s huddled on a bench near the beautiful fountain that he nearly jumped in at first sight, all excited and eager to show you around. You can see a jersey he’s clenched in his fists and you would be very wrong if it’s not your number on it, but you’re not going to wrestle it away from him, not in a million years (that comes later, when it smells of nothing but him). 

You take a few steps closer and he really looks like the teddy bear you always compare him with, chubby cheeks and this cosy look on his face and everything about him just makes you want to eat him alive. He hates this comparison, of course, he lets you know every single time, “I’m not cute, for fuck’s sake, I’m handsome!” and you come up with this comparison every single time nevertheless, of course. 

He looks at ease and yet his sleep is not deep, you can hear him murmur something although you don’t understand anything that leaves his beautiful mouth. His voice alone makes you shiver and you have to fight the urge just to jump onto his body. There’s a small space on the bench though and you silently slip into it, trying to make sure your presence won’t disturb him. Your thigh brush against his leg and he softly moans, a noise that makes you shiver even more, although the summer night’s warm and you wear nothing but shorts and a tank top. 

He slightly moves and you are not sure you can trust your ears as a word escapes his mouth that sounds like your name and nothing else. You don’t dare to say anything at first, not sure you really heard him say “Marco” but screw that, you’re both here and let’s face it, you’ve got nothing left to lose.

“Sunny?” you barely whisper, “Sunny, what’s up. I’m right here.”

“Marco, Marco, Marco...” His words are stronger now, although he doesn’t really seem to be awake.  
You touch his shoulder; your thumb gently glides over his smooth skin. 

He instinctively reacts to this, no matter how long it’s been since you were so close the last time. His eyes fly open and lock with yours the same moment. He sighs heavily and mumbles, “I thought I was dreaming.” You imply to take your hand off his body, a movement he comments with an annoyed “don’t” and you leave it right where it is, still gently stroking his skin.

 

“You were saying my name..” you start the sentence and curse yourself for it, not sure what to expect from this, yet his answer makes your chest clench and you feel like all the air left your body, leaving you in utter disbelief.

“It’s just the most beautiful word I know in the whole wide world and I wanted to say it over and over again.” 

“So, you weren’t fast asleep?” and again, you can’t believe how stupid you are, reacting like this on such an overwhelming statement. “Ah forget it Sunny, I didn’t mean to say that”, and you’re quite sure he already did. 

That’s one thing about him, he’s always able to hear what he wants to hear and disregard the disturbing rest. Most of the time he lets you handle it, when come to think of. But who are you to destroy this precious moment, not again, not this time. You swore to yourself when you found him you’ll just bathe in his presence and that’s what you’re going to do now, for god’s sake. 

He shifts on the bench, trying to get his body closer to yours without falling down, and nearly fails. You grab his legs and prevent him from falling down. That’s also some structure in your whatever-kind-of-relationship this is, but you don’t want to pursue these thoughts, not now. He chuckles softly and then stretches his leg over your lap, making it impossible for you to leave. Not that you have any intention to do so, thank you very much. 

“Marco”, he starts another attempt to talk to you, and you have to force yourself to listen to him; you were too distracted by his legs on your lap, his feet so incredibly near your crotch he’d just have to move his toes slightly… oh well… nothing new on this, obviously. 

 

“I was thinking”, and these words alone make your body as stiff as a board, because you know there’s nothing good to expect from this, not this time, not once, not ever. Yet you can’t help that your heart, this impressible little bastard, starts fluttering excitedly in your chest and nearly jumps out of your throat. You look at him and hope your eyes don’t give you away. He was always good at reading you, no matter how hard you tried to look nonchalant or even disinterested. 

“I can’t stand it anymore, Marco. All these lies, all this pretending to be someone I never was and most of all never will be… It’s hard and exhausting and I am so tired of fulfilling everybody’s expectations when I don’t even know what to expect from myself anymore. I am so lost in all of this and I think it’s time..” 

His words meander through your brain, you are trying to get hold of them yet they slip away every time. 

‘Not again, Sunny’, you mutter, more to yourself than to anyone else. Not that he’d be able to hear you. Or make any attempts to listen to you, anyway. He’s wrapped up in his litany about his life, lead by others, about all the things he has to do and doesn’t want to (show off with this unbearable girlfriend of his, you grimly think, flooding Instagram with pictures of this utterly happy relationship, this woman throwing her boobs into every camera’s lens that’s in her surroundings, seems like a really hard life, Sunny, and you can’t help having these thoughts, they are always in the back of your mind and flood to the surface in all the wrong moments).. 

You try to focus, though, you’re always interested in every single word that leaves this amazing mouth. Yet again – does he really believe in his own words? These words, if only they were new to you, if only the other man hadn’t pronounced them what feels like a million times. You had been at this point so often, you lost count.  
You continue to stroke his legs, but your fingers don’t find their way to more explicit parts of the body you know so well, even better than your own one. 

You can feel his eyes on you and the silence that follows makes clear that he’s expecting some kind of reaction from you. Not that you don’t know what to say, what he even expects you to say.  
“You’re right, Sunny, it’s tough. But remember what we went through when your transfer to Munich was pronounced… the crowds would go haywire if you told them… well, everything. It’s just not the right time. Probably, when we retire and no one gives a damn about who we’re with and what we do..” your words subside and all you can hear is the faint sound of the sea rolling onto the beach and some music from a club miles along the street. 

 

He sighs heavily, but not unexpected and you wonder for yourself when you attended to join this strange theatre show. The roles were taken from the moment you were involved with him, yet you never actually said you want to be the reasonable guy when all you really want is to grab him by his wrists and elope to the Bermudas, surfing and swimming and loving each other senseless, any more questions?  
You know very well that you only do this on his behalf, although you couldn’t come up with an answer when Mats asked you what you really wanted from life. It was at Schmelle’s party and you both were drunk but not too much to get thoughtful about love and life and love, again. There’s what you really want if you ever had the guts to say it out loud, relief would be the only feeling left, you know that for sure. But on the other hand, there’s what everyone else expects you to want, and that’s a successful career, health, a wife, some children, some kind of “they lived happily ever after.”

And you are sure about the day when you will come out, when you will laugh in their faces and show the world, “this is my boyfriend, and I love him more than words can say, and I don’t give a fuck about what you say, about what anyone says, so shut up and get along with it”, and they will accept it, it will be more like “we already knew or at least suspected it” and you’ll only have to wait a little longer. You can do this, you’re strong, a fighter for good, and you are willing to accept this as your fate. 

 

But Sunny… your beloved little sunshine, who can lighten up a whole neighbourhood only with his smile… who’s such a gentle, sensitive person, who’s caring about every thing and everyone he once enclosed in his heart, he’d never be strong enough to endure the mayhem a coming out would cause. All the tabloids would spread out every single detail of his private life; nobody would ever see him as the great footballer he is, with so much talent and so much yet to come. 

If you were completely honest to yourself, you’d say that despite all the bad things that could happen, you’d be a couple in the open if it was to you to decide and that maybe, just maybe, his love for you is not that strong, not matter what he tells you in the heat of the night, in endless numbers of texts you both keep sending, in close encounters stolen from your rigid timetables. But you forbid yourself strictly to have those thoughts, they simply hurt too much. And you accepted his ways and his art of loving you a long time ago.

That’s why you take it as your responsibility to protect him, at every cost. That’s why you’re always back in his arms, no matter how much time he is willing to spend with you, no matter how often you’re left behind when he tries to give the impression of a young man pursuing his dreams that don’t include you. 

And that’s why you simply say, “alright, Sunny, it’s alright”, wrapping your arms around him, softly whispering “everything will be okay” until you can hear the steady breathing, indicating he fell asleep again, only interrupted by the clattering sound of your own heart, breaking into a million pieces.


End file.
